Chills
by TheRealRenee
Summary: A diva plays nursemaid to a sick superstar, who repays her her kindness... ?/?, Lita/Edge


She whistled to herself as she roamed down the arena hallway. It had been a good night for her, a very good night. 

There was a slight bounce in her step as she continued on her way, but she slowed down as her gaze suddenly caught him. The man was leaning against the wall, one hand pressed against his abdomen. If she didn't know better, he looked like he didn't feel well. 

Concern flooding her, the diva rushed forward, noting how pale his face was. 

"Hey..." The young woman reached out and grasped his arm as she peered up into his face. His expression seemed to be pained. "You don't look so good. Are you okay?" 

"Not really," he managed. "I... I think I'm gonna be sick." Then, as though on cue with his words, the man jerked his hand up to his mouth, then broke into a run to the nearest bathroom - which, fortunately was only a couple of doors down. 

The diva stood there behind him as he got sick in the toilet in the small lavatory, a wince on her face. The poor guy... 

When he was finished, he rinsed his mouth, then washed his face and blotted it with a paper towel. Damn... He hated that she'd had to witness him at a time like this - at his absolute worst. 

"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly as he met eyes with her. 

"Oh, don't be ridiculous! You're obviously sick - it's not your fault." She inched closer to him again and pressed a hand to his brow. "Oh, God, you're burning up! Good thing the show is over, because you're in no condition to do anything." 

"You know - I do have the chills," the young man said, misery clearly etched on his handsome face. "I must have caught the flu or something." 

"All right, that's it," she stated, her pretty face full of fierce determination and concern. "I'm taking you back to the hotel." 

"You don't have to do that," he protested. "I can get myself there myself." 

She rolled her eyes at his stubbornness. What was it with members of the male species? Always having to play tough and macho, even when they were weak and obviously feeling miserable. 

"Nonsense - I doubt you could even carry your bag out of here, the way you're feeling right now. Look, I'll just grab my stuff and meet you right back here... Okay?" 

He nodded, feeling much too ill to protest. Besides, if this beautiful woman wanted to do something nice and selfless for him, who was he to complain? 

He was leaning with his back against the wall not five minutes later when she returned, wheeled suitcase dragging behind her. If he hadn't felt so lousy, he would have complimented her on how beautiful she looked tonight. But as it was, the only thing he could really concentrate on was getting into his hotel room bed - and passing out for a good ten to twelve hours. 

He didn't utter a single complaint as he sat in the passenger's seat of the rental and she drove. She even kept the radio off out of respect for the possibility that he had a headache. 

Before too long, they were in the hotel's parking lot. She sighed as she parked the car in an empty space and then undid her seatbelt. 

"Come on, sweetie - we're here..." She gently laid a hand on his arm to rouse him, as he'd dozed a tiny bit during their trip. 

They left the car and proceeded to make their way into the hotel. He figured the diva would merely walk him to his room and then retreat to her own, but apparently, she had her own ideas. 

"I'm going to stay with you for awhile..." 

"What? No... I don't want you to get sick," he insisted. 

She dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. 

"I'm not worrying about that. Right now, my only concern is you. You need someone to nurse you back to health." 

The man was touched by her words and sweetness. If he'd been able to, he would have smiled. 

"Thank you," he finally managed. "You really don't have to do that, but thank you." 

"And you," she said with a soft smile gracing her full lips, "don't have to thank me. Come on, let's get you into bed." 

He nearly laughed at the would-be double meaning. 

"You're the boss lady..." 

Once inside his hotel room, she instructed him to change into his pajamas. She retreated to the bathroom to give him privacy as well as to search for some rubbing alcohol and a washcloth. 

"Okay, I'm decent!" 

The diva returned to see him huddled under the blankets in the bed. Her heart went out to him. He looked so sick and weak - so unlike the man she knew in the squared circle. 

"It's too bad we don't have a thermometer," she said as she sat on the edge of the bed, damp washcloth in her hand. "But it's safe to say you definitely have a fever." She placed the washcloth on his forehead, and he let out a soft, albeit pained, sigh. 

"You're a regular angel of mercy." 

She smiled but then shushed him, a finger against her lips. 

"Shh... just close your eyes and let me take care of you..." 

He did that. But it wasn't as though he had a choice. His eyelids were becoming increasingly heavy, and he felt his control over them waning. 

"It'll be okay..." the diva whispered, her head cocked as she gazed down into his sleeping face. She reached down and tenderly stroked his brow. "I'll take good care of you, sweetie..." 

Nine Days Later 

"Hey, how are you feeling, man?" 

The question came from Adam Copeland, the blond man's arm around the shoulders of his girlfriend, Amy Dumas. The redhead offered him a warm smile. 

"I feel much better - in fact, I feel great!" he said with a grin. 

"We understand you had your own nurse?" Amy teased with a wink. 

"Oh... yeah," he laughed. "I've really got to formally thank her for that - she definitely sped up my recovery." 

"Well, now's your chance," Adam said, his gaze focusing a little ways down the arena hallway. 

The man turned to follow his friend's line of sight and spotted the diva indeed heading their way. 

"Look, we'll catch you later, okay?" the tall Canadian said, and he and Amy hurried off to leave them alone. 

"Hi," he said, his gaze on the young woman. "Just the person I wanted to see." 

She smiled. 

"I just wanted to make sure you were really feeling better." 

"Oh, yeah... And it's all thanks to you, Trish..." Then, before the blonde woman could say anything more, he leaned down and pressed a firm yet tender kiss to her lips. She instantly melted and responded in kind. 

Afterward, she gazed up at him, her brown eyes blinking rapidly. 

"Jay?" 

Jay Reso smiled as he raised a hand to her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin. 

"Just my way of saying thank you - among other things." 

She smiled and bit her lip. 

"Well, this is my way of saying you're welcome - and other things." She stood up on her tiptoes and pulled his head down to hers again for another sweet kiss.  
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